


Soul Bound

by Atanih88



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Sex, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Soul Bond, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Tony Stark/Peter Parker end game, established pepper potts/tony stark, temporary disfigurement, this is a starker fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/pseuds/Atanih88
Summary: They survived the unthinkable. Tony put that glove on fully prepared. He knew he wouldn’t make it.Except it doesn’t go down that way.





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tangodoodles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangodoodles/gifts).

> Written for Tangodoodles for the Marvel Trumps Hate auction. 
> 
> It has taken me so long to get to this point. This was supposed to be a 10k fic and…it spiralled. 
> 
> Re. how long this fic will be? Pretty long, but it will wrap up between chapter 15/20.
> 
> Tangodoodles, thank you for being so patient with this fic, it's gone through a lot of changes since we first began discussing it. You have been an absolute angel about everything. I hope you enjoy this and I promise you'll have that happy ending ♥

**PETER**

'He's still there.'

Peter can't breathe. His chest is too tight. His face is clammy, the breeze blowing cold on the damp streaks over his cheeks. Small sharp stones dig into his knees but he can't bring himself to move from where he kneels. His body has never felt this heavy before.

It takes Peter a moment to realise he's shaking. Shaking so badly.

It takes Peter even longer to register Stephen Strange's words.

'What?' 

Pepper's trembling voice is what brings Peter out of it. Rhodey's hand has been resting on Peter's shoulder since he dropped to the ground but Peter hadn't noticed. Peter feels it now as it tightens on his already sore muscles. It's a quick pressure, sharp and cutting through Peter's inertia but the pressure is gone just as quickly.

Peter lifts his head.

Strange's red cloak fans around him on the ground. Its vibrant red is dulled by a thick layer of dust and although Peter has seen it move on its own, sentient and even humorous, it lies still now. Starnge kneels in front of Mr Stark. In front of Tony. 

Tony's dead.

'Easy kid, easy,' Rhodey's voice is rough and stuttering and he clears his throat. This time when his grip tightens on Peter's shoulder, it's in comfort. 

Pepper is still at Tony's side. She has a gentle hand resting against Tony's cheek. She isn't crying anymore. She's not even looking at Tony. She's looking at Strange, mouth set and firm, a fierce look in her eyes as she stares at him, unmoving.

'What are you saying?' Her words come out hoarse but strong.

'He's not gone yet,' Strange says. 

Peter stares. 

Strange's arms move beneath his cloak, Peter can see it the cloak shifting over the movements but he can't see what Strange is doing.

'Strange,' Pepper bites out his name but her touch on Tony's face remains soft. '_What are you saying?_'

Peter pulls his gaze away from Tony's face. He can't handle it right now. He's never seen Tony's eyes look like that. So still. Gaze gone, fixed on some point they're not seeing. 

Peter doesn't get what Strange is saying because Tony's not in those eyes. There's nothing of Tony there.

'Not now,' Strange sounds like he's speaking through gritted teeth, 'I need to concentrate. And we have to move quickly. I won't be able to keep this up for long.'

What's he saying?

'What—' Peter pushes to his feet, ignores the way his toes catch on a dip in the ground and he stumbles. Rhodey's grip on his shoulder is the only thing that keeps Peter from sprawling on his face. 'What's going on—hey, wh-what is that? Doctor Strange?'

Because now that Peter's standing, he can see it. 

It looks like a seal, etched in electric blue lines and sigils. Peter has no idea what they mean. Under Strange's permanently trembling hands, it stretches, stretching the entire length of Tony's body until it covers Tony from neck to toes.

Peter shakes his head, trying to dislodge the confusion. .

'This isn't going to work.'

Pepper pushes up onto her knees, her hand dropping from Tony's face. She wipes at her face, hands rough as she looks from Tony to Strange.

'He's alive?'

Strange gives a sharp nod of his head. 'For now.'

'What do you need?' Pepper asks.

Peter shrugs off Rhodey's grip and moves closer. His chest feels like its throbbing and he thinks he can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his ear drums, in his throat, in his temples. Peter doesn't stop until he's staring down at Tony.

The blue magic casts a pale glow on Tony's skin that makes him look as if he's been touched by ice.

'I need to transfer the damage,' Strange says. 'And I need to do it fast. I can't guarantee it'll work. I don't know the last time this spell was used. I haven't had the time or the opportunity to study its history. We're lucky I even glimpsed that text.'

Pepper inhales and nods sharply. 'Do it. I can take it.'

'No. You can't.' Strange doesn't even glance in her direction, bends over Tony, keeping his hands as steady as he can. 'I don't know how much I can control the transfer. It could just drag you down with him. Kid. You heal, right?'

Peter's throat goes dry.

Rhodey steps up beside him, hand on Peter's arm. 'Strange, he's a kid.'

Peter looks at Tony. He swallows and feels fear skitter up his spine. 

Tony isn't gone. 

He's not gone.

'Strange,' Rhodey says, 'we can get one of the others. We can—'

'There's no time. I can't hold him for long. It needs to be now. Kid?'

'Peter.' Pepper calls to him, voice soft and when Peter looks at her, her eyes gleam in the dying light of the day. 

Pepper smiles. It's soft and sad and looking at it hurts Peter as much as looking at Tony.

'It's okay Peter,' she says, 'it's okay. You don't have to do this.'

Peter's mouth is so dry. His eyes hurt. He can't remember the last time he had something to drink; the last time he touched any water.

Tony continues to sit there, unmoving.

It looks so much like he's gone already.

Peter clears his throat, feels the resolve settling into every corner of his being, stealing the ache from his bones.

This is something he can do. He _can_.

'I can do it,' Peter says, standing straighter. 'I can.'

'Peter—' Pepper says.

'I said there's no time,' Strange says and finally turns around. He keeps one hand hovering over Tony. His face is covered in soot; sweat beads his forehead and runs down his face. He looks at Peter, hard. Then, he reaches out to Peter, palm open. 'You're sure?'

Peter stares down at Strange's hand. He reaches out and lays his own hand on the Strange's upturned one.

Strange bypasses Peter's hand to lock his fingers around Peter's wrist. 'Alright,' Strange says, 'hang in there, kid.'

Peter firms his jaw and gives Strange a nod. Peter looks at Tony and hopes, hopes with everything he has.

He doesn't look away, doesn't let his gaze stray from Tony's face even as that pulsing blue light blooms at the edges of his vision at the same time as the warmth begins to sink into his wrist. 

Peter blinks, mouth parting in surprise as every hair stands on his body, a clear sign that something's wrong, a warning that normally tells him to protect himself.

The warmth turns into a sharp sting and Peter plants his feet and fights the urge to yank his wrist out of Strange's hand. 

'Peter?' Rhodey's voice sounds as if it's coming from just behind Peter, worry obvious. But Peter's concentrating and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip when the sharp sting travels up his arm and turns into something else, something hot and searing. 

Peter gasps, the pain like something he's never known. But he forces the words out because he doesn't want Strange to stop. 'I'm—I'm okay. I'm okay, don't stop.' Except he isn't okay and it feels like someone is flaying the skin from his body. His knees tremble and cave and he manages to catch himself. His stomach turns under the grotesque pain as it travels over him, blanketing his shoulder, his ribs and down his leg.

The blue light flares, cutting between Peter and Strange and lights up the sky like a signal. Peter gasps. His knees give out and he lands hard on the ground, his free hand slapping into the ground, just barely holding himself up. The grip on his wrist stays strong.

Strange grunts. 'Talk to me, kid.'

Peter can feel the strain, the veins on his neck standing out; he can feel the throbbing there as he lifts his head. 

Pepper's standing now, eyes wide and horrified. Rhodey stands at her side, his hands on her shoulders as she looks between Peter and Tony. 'Oh god—maybe we should—'

Peter looks at Tony. 

Tony's lashes fall closed. 

For a moment, despite the excruciating pain that drags a cry out from Peter's throat and sinks deep into his body, a giant fist wrenching at Peter's very core, Peter feels as if his own heart stops.

Then Tony's eyes open, slow, heavy. But they open. And they stare right at Peter. Alive. And _Tony_.

And god it hurts. It hurts so bad. 

Peter's mouth is wet and he thinks—he thinks that maybe he's crying. His entire right side is on fire and he doesn't know how long he can keep himself going, how long he can take the burning and the awful ripping sensation inside him. 

Tony blinks, slow, but there.

'Oh my god, he can't—Strange, stop it.' 

That's Pepper. Peter knows that's Pepper. 

'The kid is dying!'

Panic, blind and irrational sweeps over Peter and he clenches the hand planted on the ground into a fist. 

'N—no.' Something drips out of Peter's mouth, thick and stringy. It tastes like metal. 'No.' He keeps his eyes open and on Tony, makes sure that Tony is still looking at him, afraid that if he glances away for even a second then Tony won't stay. 'It's okay Mr Stark. It's o—okay. It'll be okay. Please don't g-go.'

The last thing he sees is Tony's mouth move.

_Peter_.

Peter's mouth curves in an attempt at a smile.

And everything goes dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <strike>The next update will most likely be on the 18th August</strike>.  
* Update has been pushed back to 25th August 2019. 
> 
> Thank you every one who is following this one along, it's much appreciated :)
> 
> This will be a slow burner and I'm sure I've mentioned this before (I think I tagged it), but this is Tony/Peter end game - but yeah, slow burn.
> 
> Apologies for any mistakes, they are all my own.

There's a weight pressing all along the length of Tony's back. It's hot. Tony can feel the heat soaking through his t-shirt and warm the stretch of his skin there.

Opening his eyes is surprisingly hard. It's as if Tony's under water and the depth pressure is trying to keep them closed. He pushes past it anyway because something—something isn't right and his right wrist is throbbing, the skin of his inner wrist feels stretched tight.

Tony flinches against the light, lifts a hand to ward it off and turns his face away from it, hissing and squeezing his eyes back shut. The movement dislodges the weight on his back and it shifts—no, a person. It's a person and his movement seems dislodges them. After a moment, they resettle.

Gritting his teeth against the sensitivity, Tony tries again and this time sweeps his surroundings from beneath lowered eyelids.

He's on a bed. The room is foreign to him but he places the equipment and the sterile smell easily enough. 

So, a hospital.

Tony's sits, legs over the side, his weight sunk into his hands where they curl over the edge of the mattress. Tony doesn't know where all this light is coming from but it's as if the room has no roof and it's spilling out through the ceiling itself.

'Mr Stark?'

Tony feels the words hum along his back.

Peter.

Tony shifts, looks over his shoulder.

'Kid?' Tony hitches a leg up onto the bed and twists to see. 

Yeah. That's the kid, sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed, his back to Tony, and covered head to toe in that battle worn Spider suit. 

Tony remembers the hours of work he put into that suit like it was three seconds ago, can still feel the sense of satisfaction at what he'd created, the smug pride at the thought of the kid laying eyes on it. And although he'd built it for Peter, for Peter to fight in and survive in, every time, seeing it this way, scraped and broken and burned—

Burned.

The suit is charred, surface melted and reshaped into something grotesque all along Peter's right side, up the neck and along the mask's side.

'Kid, what the—'

'It hurts.' Peter's voice sounds so small and it sounds too much like _I don't know what's happening, I don't want to go, please, I don't want to go._ 'It hurts, Mr Stark.' 

Tony fists the bed blanket in his hand because Peter should never have to sound like that, ever. Tony has no idea why Peter's like this, even though there's something, something just hovering at the edges of Tony's mind and if he can just _grasp_ it—

Peter sighs, shoulders slumping with it. His body lists to the left. 'I'm not ready yet.'

Tony reaches for him and it's as if the world is swept out from him. 

His head pounds and the whirl of the room around him has Tony sucking air through grinding teeth.

This time there's no light to flinch away from, just a soft glow coming from somewhere to his left.

Christ he's in pain.

'Tony?'

He becomes aware of a hand wrapped around his, recognises that voice and his chest fills and hurts with it. God. Pepper.

Screw the pain. Tony turns to see Pepper half draped over the bed—the same bed, he's just seen this bed—her hair spills out from the loose knot she's tied it up in, the blue and grey blanket draped over her is slipping off her shoulder. There's a crease on her right cheek and even in the poor light Tony can see the way her eyes are red-rimmed.

'Hey, Pep,' his voice cracks in the middle so he swallows and turns his hand, threads his fingers through hers.

Pepper stares at him for a long moment, her smile trembles on her mouth, the corners fighting a war. He's seen that expression before but just then he can't pin it. It brings with it the echoes of blood in his mouth and of a numbness stealing over his body.

'God,' she chokes, 'Tony.' She shuts her eyes and clasps his hand in both of hers. The blanket slides off a little more as her shoulders shake beneath it.

Shit. 

Yeah it's maybe not the smartest thing to do, but Tony uses his free hand to push himself up. Can't quite silence the grunt that forces its way out, pushing out from his chest and catching in his threat.

The bed protests his shifting weight and Pepper's head snaps up.

'Tony, no, no, don't,' she swipes at her eyes and presses a staying hand to his chest, 'just, please. I need you to rest, okay?' She leans over him, cups his face. Her hair is soft, tickling his skin and catching on his stubble as she touches her lips to his. 

'Okay,' his voice is that same rough tone, like he hasn't used it in a long time and he wants some water. Water would be good. But looking at Pepper's face right now is better.

Pepper smiles again but this time it stays, strong and steady. She presses another absent kiss to his hand and Tony winces because the skin is so sensitive there. It looks irritated, lines raised in his skin and they stand out enough that Tony frowns. 

'Hang on a sec,' he says and tugs gently away from Pepper, curls his other hand reassuringly around her shoulder instead so that he can take a better look.

It's like a welt and the area surrounding it is splotchy and angry-looking. A side-ways eight.

The gauntlet. The stones. 

Thanos. Pepper crying at his side and the pain searing through his whole body, the snap of his fingers echoing so loudly inside his head that he hadn't been able to hear Pepper's words.

'What happened?' he asks.

He shouldn't have survived that. He'd felt it. He'd known what would happen, remembers with crystal clarity, staring at Pepper's face and trying to fix it to memory, hoping against logic that he could take that memory with him. 

A ripple of red in his periphery pulls him out of his thoughts but it's already there, dread sinking through him and burning in his stomach.

Strange moves further into the room, the meek light throwing his face into sharp angles. He looks perfectly put together. Every hair in place, cloak a soft fall over his frame. When he meets Tony's gaze his shoulders straighten that little more.

'Tony,' Strange says and Tony doesn't like that tone. He recognises that tone, remembers Strange using it to tell him there was no other way. 

Now that Tony's looking for it, he sees the line of the healed over cut on Strange's cheek.

Pepper grasps Tony's hand again. 'Tony, I need you to look at me.'

Tony does. Her fingers are soft and warm and they grip his hand tight. He remembers something fleeting. Something that is there, right there in front of him but that changes shape and ripples and he can't quite grasp it and it pisses him off, because his mind doesn't do this. His mind is his own and it does what he wants it to do.

Damn it—

_It's okay Mr Stark. It's o—okay. It'll be okay._

It's as if it breaks his brain open. His head is so full, so full—Strange at his side, the pain alongside the right side of Tony's body intensifying. And Peter. Peter trying to smile at him and failing as his features twisted in pain, blue light spilling everywhere.

Tony looks at Strange. His heart feels too big in his chest and somewhere in the room, a beeping he hadn't even been aware of, is suddenly shrill and running to the pace of his heartbeat.

'What did you do?' he asks and shakes his head, horror dragging through his gut and leaving him wasted. 'Not for me. Tell me the kid—' he tightens his grip on Pepper, is squeezing too hard and with strength he doesn't have but he needs an anchor because he's not sure what he'll do otherwise, 'where's the kid? _Where's the kid?'_

Tony pushes past the pain, pulse pounding in his ears as he shoves himself up, ignores the instinctive flinch as every part of his body protests the motion and faster than anyone clearly expects him to move, grabs onto Strange. He fists the cloak and yanks Strange close enough to bare his teeth in Strange's face, never mind that Tony's body feels as if it's shaking apart.

'Tony!' Pepper grabs onto his arm. 'He's alive! Peter's alive, let him go!'

Jesus. _Jesus._

Tony slumps back, feels like all his strings have been cut off. He breathes in, lets it fill his ribcage. He does it again and again and again. Because everything is a mess right now and if he doesn't take a moment he thinks he might lose it.

Finally, when he can think again, when he can _breathe_ again, Tony lifts his head and looks at Strange. 

'Show me.'

~

Tony waves away the nurse that tries to get him to stay in his room and drags on the thick robe they give him, grateful for the warmth because he feels cold down to the marrow.

Pepper stays at his side, wrapped around his arm like she's scared he'll fall on his ass. She's not wrong so Tony lets her take some of his weight as they make their way down the state of the art facility. 

SHIELD had been quick to move in and move them to a secure location. 

Tony's thoughts are flying ahead. He remembers the sheer devastation that Thanos had delivered in his final attack. Doesn't know who's made it and who hasn't yet. He hasn't asked. He will. After. 

He can't yet. Not without seeing Parker.

It's quiet, the kind of silence that's unique to hospitals, the quiet punctuated by the clipped strides of medical personnel and machines keeping tabs on patient's vitals, the sterile smell clinging to the air. 

Strange's cloak flutters around his ankles as he leads the way down the deserted corridor. 

The overhead lights border on neon bright.

God, he feels ancient. He's glad there were no mirrors in the room because Tony's pretty sure he looks as ancient as he feels. 

His wrist still hurts. It's as if the entire blood flow in his body is centered on his wrist. The skin is still an angry red and every time it throbs, he thinks of Peter, sitting cross-legged on a brightly lit bed, suit ruined and Peter's voice small.

Up ahead, Strange stops at a closed door. The shutters are down on the window that looks into the room. Pale yellow slivers slip through the gaps. Strange turns.

Tony and Pepper stop too.

There's a really shitty, unwelcome feeling in Tony's stomach. He rubs a hand over his mouth and jaw. He gestures for Strange to open the door.

Tony almost wishes he hadn't.

The room is a copy of Tony's.

He recognises the woman sitting at the bedside as May Parker. Her back is to the door and her elbows rest on the bed, her head down. There's the obvious sound of sniffling and she straightens away from the bed before turning in the chair.

Except Tony doesn't see her face because he's staring at the shape under the blankets.

Peter looks—small. Peter always fills a room with his energy, twitchy with it, always eager to take the next step, to leap, to freefall.

The blankets are a pale blue and they're pulled all the way up over Peter's chest. He is still, his eyes closed. 

The skin along the right side of Peter's face, from temple to neck where it disappears under the collar of his t-shirt, is red and charred, the surface marred and shiny. It distorts the corner of Peter's mouth. 

The skin untouched by the burns is almost translucent in its paleness.

Tony's knees give out. 

'Tony—' Pepper's arm wraps tight around his waist and he slaps a hand on the doorframe to catch himself, plants his feet and forces his legs to lock.

'They say he's healing,' May says as she wipes at her cheeks, 'they think—think it'll all go. But he's not healing as fast as he should.'

Tony can't look away. Peter's chest lifts but it's so slight that it looks like he's not breathing at all.

'Mr Stark—Tony.'

Tony swallows and meets May's gaze. The weight of it threatens to drag him down and leave him flat out on the floor. 

'I'm glad you're okay. I'm really am. But please understand that I'd rather you weren't here right now.'

May tries to tack on a smile at the end of it, Tony can see her trying to be kind but her whole face crumples and she has to turn away, covering her face, fine tremors lining her shoulders.

Because of him. Because of Tony.

The kid—whatever put him in that bed, was because of Tony. Was _for_ Tony. Because Peter had been standing over him, a little worse for wear, but healthy, whole, skin unmarred and telling Tony it would be okay.

Right then Tony has nothing. He's got no words. He's got no control over his mouth. His jaw feels screwed shut. 

He pries it open. 

'I'm sorry,' he says and does the only thing he can.

He leaves.

Pepper stays with him, not letting go and her eyes are shining again. 

Behind them, Tony hears Strange's deep voice, too low for him to make out what he's saying before he follows Tony and Pepper out.

Tony waits while Strange closes the door, avoids looking back into the room. He doesn't need to. 

The image of Peter, unresponsive and hurt is etched into his mind's eye.

'He's in there for me. Isn't he.'

Strange doesn't deny it.

Pepper presses her palm to Tony's chest, turns her face into his shoulder and makes a soft shushing noise. 'Hey, hey, we'll figure it out, okay? We will.'

That's not good enough.

It's not enough.

He sees Peter sitting cross-legged on the bed in the spider suit, his back to Tony.

Tony shakes his head and focuses a hard stare on Strange. 

'You're going to tell me everything that happened, Doc. Everything. And then you're going to tell me how to fix it.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been following the fic so far and apologies for the lateness of the update. This chapter is very Tony centric but never fear, Peter is coming. ♥
> 
> p.s. [Marvel Trumps Hate](https://marveltrumpshate.tumblr.com/post/187944776045/marveltrumpshate-creator-registration-for-marvel) is also back for creator sign-ups, so if interested please check it out!

Tony refuses to stay at the hospital.

Pepper's at his side, throwing worried glances in his direction because but the kid is right around the corner and May hadn't even been able to look him in the face and Tony needs—

Tony drags his hands down his face.

He needs the kid to wake up. 

Like, right now. 

Like, yesterday. 

Like, before Tony opened his own eyes or preferably, he needs the kid to have never left the fucking school bus. Right now Tony needs to have never even caught wind of Peter Parker. Because if he'd never found him, then the kid would've never been in this situation.

Of course, part of him knows this is bullshit. Peter had been Spider-Man long before Tony came on the scene. But that had been on a smaller scale. That had been contained. 

That hadn't been Thanos and fading to dust in Tony's hands and coming back only to end up comatose in a SHIELD facility—

'Fuck!' Tony barely registers the pain of his hand hitting the wall as he stands there, trying to get his breath under control because it's coming too fast and struggling to fill his chest. 

'Tony,' Pepper murmurs and steps up behind him. She curls her hands over his shoulders and presses her forehead against the top of his spine. 'Come on.' She tugs gently.

Tony allows himself to be pulled away and can't do more than just stand there.

Strange is watching him, silent.

Then Strange sighs and begins to form a familiar motion with his hands, moving his hand in circular motions, holding the other one steady and orange sparks rend the air right in front of them until it pushes out into a circle that frames a view that isn't a part of the hospital.

Home.

It brings with it a feather light breeze and the brine scent of the lake.

'Well?' Strange says, and gestures ahead.

Tony stares at it. 'Morgan…'

'She isn't there right now,' Pepper says, 'she's at my mother's. Happy's with her. We didn't know when either of you would come to.'

Tony nods. It's all getting stuck in his throat, clogging all the way down into his chest.

Pepper squeezes his shoulders. 'Go.'

Tony turns, catching her hands with his. He can't look her in the face so he just holds her hands tighter. Doesn't want to let go.

Pepper curls her fingers around his. 'Go. Speak to Stephen. I'll take care of the paperwork.' 

Strange steps closer to the circle, the spits of magic sparking onto his cloak and fading.

Pepper lets go and cups Tony's face. His stubble scrapes against the softness of her palms. 'Okay?' She kisses him, soft, on the mouth.

Tony closes his eyes and breathes her in. And god he should be dragging her into his arms and not letting go forever. He should be running out of this place to find his daughter and curl up under a blanket fort with her and not come out for days, but.

_It's okay Mr Stark. It's o—okay. It'll be okay._

Tony steps back and nods again.

Strange's expression is unreadable as he waits for Tony.

Tony steps into cold night air. His lungs fill up with it and he draws his shoulders back, chest wide, trying to get more of it, feeling like the purity of it is cutting a path through all the thoughts in his head and shutting up the voice in the back of his head telling him he's gotta fix it, gotta fix it now, fix all of it—

He's stiff as he walks up to his and Pepper's and Morgan's home. There are no lights on inside.

Tony's movements are stiff as he makes his way to the door. It feels like he's aged a hundred years. Except that he's not meant to be here at all, so he probably shouldn't complain.

The sound of the portal is swallowed up by the silence of the night. Tony looks over his shoulder and Strange is following him, portal closed now, the lake a dark stretch of still water behind him.

When he steps inside, Tony has to take a moment. 

It’s the smell. 

The smell of home and isn’t it strange how he hadn’t thought about it? Hadn’t remembered the smell when he’d been at the base, or when he’d been hopping through a time machine or when he’d known death was coming to him—he hadn’t remembered this smell but now that it’s here, blanketing him as he stands just inside the door, it’s almost enough to bring him to his knees. All Tony can do is stand there and breathe it in. He feels the dry prickling on his eyes and shuts them, tries to soothe the feeling away with the darkness of his eyelids.

‘Tony.’

Strange’s voice sounds even deeper when he speaks so quietly.

‘Yeah,’ he snaps his eyes back open, ‘yeah.’ He looks at Strange over his shoulder. ‘I’m good.’ His throat closes up as he spots Morgan’s rain boots lined up by the wall. ‘I’m good.’ He heads straight for the kitchen, clears his throat. ‘Hang out,’ he waves in the general direction of the kitchen, ‘make yourself comfy. I need to wash the hospital off me.’

‘Tony, you shouldn’t—‘

‘I’ll be fine Doc. Take a chill pill. Sit down. I’ll be quick.’

That part is a lie. 

It takes ten minutes of standing under the spray of hot water, staring unseeingly at the tiles of the shower stall before Tony blinks and comes back into himself. His right wrist is still sensitive, the hot water making it worse as it runs over his skin.

He steps out of the shower like an old man, careful and every bone protesting. His robe feels alien in his hand. Like he’s forgotten that things are soft and it’s so ridiculous that he scoffs at himself, shakes his head and drags the robe on. 

Through the steam, he examines the mark. 

He'd thought it was black, but it isn't—not quite. There's a silvery-blue sheen to it. It shimmers as he tilts his wrist in the light. The skin around it is still red and when Tony runs his fingers over it, he can feel the raised lines of healing skin.

He heads back downstairs, hair dripping into the towel around his neck. Strange is at the kitchen table. A cup of steaming tea sits between his palms and there’s another one at an empty seat at the table. When he sees Tony, Strange nods at the chair across the table.

Tony had told him to make himself comfortable.

The chair creaks as Tony sinks heavily into it. 

Strange lifts his eyebrows and the second tea-filled mug skids neatly over the surface of the table to stop in front of Tony.

Tony archs an eyebrow. 'Cute.' He picks it up anyway, the smell of green tea distinctive. He takes a sip, almost burning his tongue on it and sets it back down. He leans back in the chair and folds his arms.

'That glove did a number on me. We both know I shouldn't have survived that. The battle was over. Why is the kid lying unconscious in that bed, huh?' He leans forward and leans his arm, wrist up, on the table. 'Tell me what this is.'

Strange sighs. 'Before Thanos. The stones. I was studying some of our older texts. Some of the pages were heavily damaged. Parts of it were in a completely different language. I came across this one spell. From what I'd read, it was used back in the day by wizards going into battle side by side. My understanding of it isn't as solid as I would like. But this spell allowed partners on the field to balance out any damage received, anchor their counterpart to this plane long enough for outside forces to oversee the damage.'

Tony narrows his eyes. Can already see where this is going. 'You used it. You used the spell.'

'I did,' Strange sits up straight and looks Tony in the eye. 'You were in bad shape. Pepper offered but it would've just taken you her down with you. The kid was a good bet. His healing ability alone guaranteed a higher success rate. The others—they were too far and you were almost gone.'

'He's a _kid_,' Tony hisses, hand slamming down on the table. 'Have you any idea what you've—'

Strange narrows his eyes. 'Yeah. A kid who you dragged into your break up spat with Steve Rogers. A kid who was on Titan, just like you, just like me. Who's seen more action than either of us know because he was Spider-Man long before you were on the scene. That kid. Is that the kid you're referring to?'

Tony's hands are clenched into fists and the anger is licking so close to the surface he can feel the veins at his throat straining. 

'I asked him, Stark. He made a decision.' Strange stands, the abrupt motion sending the chair skidding back. He paces away from the table and runs his hand through his hair. 'I didn't anticipate—' 

He stands with his back to Tony, facing the wall. Slowly, the tightness in his shoulders unravels and they slope, his head dropping forward. 

'I'm trained to take risks, Stark. I calculated the risk—'

'Based on what? On something that you barely knew—'

'I knew enough!' Strange glares at him. 'I knew enough to understand that the probability of Peter surviving was high enough to take the chance. And I knew enough to understand that if I didn't take it, you would be dead, your wife would be husbandless and your daughter would grow up in a world where you did not exist. Only one of those was guaranteed, Tony.'

And that—fuck.

'You took a lot of damage. The spell worked over time to ensure he stayed and that you stayed. But he's going to heal, Tony. His vitals are good. I've been monitoring him myself. He's already healing.'

Tony drags a hand down his mouth and shakes his head. Can't look at Strange just then. 'And what. That's it? Is this a one time deal?'

Silence.

Tony drops his hand and looks back around to Strange. 'I mean, personally I don't think that was a complicated question, I don't know about you.'

'We're looking into it. Wong finished piecing together the rest of the text this morning. It's a case of deciphering it. For now, I'll be monitoring both of you. If anything changes, let me know and I'll be here immediately.' There are bags underneath Strange's eyes and an unnatural paleness to his skin. 'I've already explained all of this to May Parker. If it makes you feel any better, she was just as happy with me as you are.'

Tony flinches. He doesn't really want to think about Aunt May. 

'Tony.' Strange's face is softer, understanding in the lines of his mouth. 'I will figure this out. It'll be okay.'

And Tony has no choice but to nod. Nod and finish the goddamned tea.

For better or for worse, he's not dead.

And the kid isn't either.

It'll have to do for now.

~

Tony doesn't know when he falls asleep.

He'd sprawled on the sofa after Strange left and stared at nothing, unable to switch off the loudness of his thoughts. Exhaustion must've gotten to him eventually because when he blinks his eyes open they're gritty, and there's a small weight pressed tight to his chest.

Pepper comes into focus. She's folded into the armchair across from him, a red blanket over her shoulders, her hands cupped around a mug.

'Hey, I tried to get her to go to bed, but she didn't want to leave you,' Pepper says, keeping her voice low.

Tony looks down at a head of shiny dark hair, becomes aware of the arms and legs wrapped around him like a baby octopus. His breath hiccups in his throat and he has to close his eyes against the sting. He wraps his arms around his baby and tucks her in closer against him.

In that moment, between dream and reality, Tony feels a sharp sense of gratefulness to Strange, to Peter, that eclipses the painful weight in his chest.

He presses his lips to Morgan's head and sob-laughs when she nuzzles her face into his chest. He looks away from his sleeping daughter's face and at Pepper who is smiling at them both, tears tracking down her cheeks.

'I love you, you know that?' he says.

Her smile turns wry. 'I figured.'

The weight of it all remains though, sitting and unmoving right above Tony's beating heart.


End file.
